


Lessons Learned

by ConsultingTimeLord



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingTimeLord/pseuds/ConsultingTimeLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo learns a thing or two from Thorin through a few impromptu lessons about music, archery, and the ways of the heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The company had left Rivendell in high spirits with full bellies and full packs for the journey ahead. They walked among the trees, the dwarves singing and playing a happy tune, on their way to the mountains when Thorin decided to stop and set up camp so they could rest well before trekking through the range. The sun still hung in the sky, its light slowly burning from a bright yellow to a soft, warm orange. It blanketed the company through the trees, casting shadows of swaying branches on the bowing blades of grass.

The thirteen dwarves, one hobbit, and one wizard each did their part to set up the camp quickly and efficiently. The bedrolls were laid out, a fire was started with the help of Gandalf’s magic, and dinner was cooking. Once everything was set up, everyone broke apart into groups or sat on their own. The area was filled with the sounds of good conversation, laughter, and the music of the wind rustling the leaves. 

Bilbo found himself sitting on his own with nothing to do but ponder his own thoughts. He thought about the usual, how much he missed his cozy hobbit hole, warm fire, and good meals regularly. He looked around him at all of the dwarves who seemed perfectly happy to be travelling on their quest, most likely with help from their stay at the Last Homely House. He felt a little guilty for missing home so much when the whole goal of their journey was to give the dwarves the home they’ve lived without for so long. 

The guilt was starting to eat away at him a little when the sound of harp strings being skillfully plucked distracted him. It was a soothing sound that rose above the chattering, though none of the dwarves paused in their talk to listen. Bilbo closed his eyes and absorbed the notes as they caressed his ears. He looked for the source and found Thorin, on his own with a small, beautiful harp in his lap.

He watched him for a time, almost in awe, without the dwarf king noticing. Thorin seemed lost in his art, unaware of the world around him. Bilbo stood in a type of trance from the calming tune and walked toward Thorin. He hadn’t quite realized how close he was until Thorin stopped playing and looked up at the hobbit. His deep, piercing gaze like the point of a blade driving through flesh snapped Bilbo out of his daze and into an awkward situation.

“Er…” Bilbo fidgeted with his hands under the weight of Thorin’s stare.

“Did you need something from me, Mr. Baggins?” Thorin said, not showing much in the way of kindness or displeasure. His face was a hard one to read.

“I, well, you play the harp so beautifully,” Bilbo said, trying to talk his way out of being stared down.

Thorin didn’t say a word, continuing to look up at Bilbo until he received a better answer.

“How did you learn to play so well?”

Thorin grunted in response, glancing down at the harp in his hands. “I was taught to play as part of my lessons as a prince. Music is very important to us dwarves.”

Bilbo, finally feeling free of Thorin’s angry stare, felt comfortable enough to sit down a foot or so away from him. “Yes, I’ve noticed. You all play and sing very well.”

Thorin nodded. “We were all taught from a young age.”

Bilbo studied Thorin’s face. His eyes seemed distant as if remembering something far away from a different place and time. He looked down at the harp in his hands. Thorin was absent-mindedly stroking the golden frame with his thumb as his other hand rested on the unmoving strings. Bilbo couldn’t fathom where to begin in playing the instrument.

“How does one learn to play such a thing?” Bilbo said, speaking his thoughts.

“Hm?” Thorin replied, returning to the present. “It’s not as hard as it seems.” He looked fondly at the little harp, plucking a few strings melodically. He seemed to be thinking something over as he tenderly stroked each string in turn. “I… Well, I could show you. How to play. If you’d like.”

Bilbo brightened at the thought, his little hobbit heart swelling with glee. “Oh, I’d like that very much.”

A ghost of a smile graced Thorin’s face for less than a second before he beckoned Bilbo to move closer. Unsure of how close he should get, Bilbo scooted forward a few inches and paused, waiting to see if Thorin wanted him closer. With an irritated huff, Thorin grabbed a hold of Bilbo’s arm and pulled him so that he sat in front of Thorin with his back to him, practically on his lap. Bilbo had enough sense not to blush but he found it difficult to hold back.

Luckily, Thorin could only see the back of his head as he gave Bilbo the harp to hold, adjusting it so that he held it the right way. He wrapped his arms around Bilbo, enveloping him in comfortable warmth. Bilbo could feel his heart start to beat a little faster at the gesture and even more so as Thorin took Bilbo’s hands in his so he could place them correctly on the instrument. 

He pulled Bilbo a little closer so that his back was touching his chest. Bilbo could feel his body heat radiating off him as well as his steady heartbeat drumming against his spine. It was a soothing feeling. He could almost close his eyes and get lost in the rhythmic beat if Thorin hadn’t been forcing his fingers into the proper position for a C note. He guided him through a short series of notes that made up a small part of a song.

“Now play it back for me,” he said, removing his arms from around Bilbo, leaving him just a little bit colder.

“What?” he asked incredulously. He stared down at the strings, trying to remember the hand placements through the daze of being held by Thorin.

“I showed you the notes, play them as I showed you,” he said a little more gruffly.

Bilbo glanced behind him at Thorin’s face that still had an impossibly unreadable expression and nodded. He fought through his confusion and placed his hands on what he thought was the first note and waited a moment before plucking it in case Thorin made any protest. When he heard nothing, he sounded the note which resonated across their little camp. He moved to the next note and the next, playing a broken version of an old Dwarvish song. 

When he finished, Thorin grunted in what Bilbo assumed to be approval. “Not bad for a hobbit.”

“Well, um, thank you. I think.” Bilbo said, muttering the last part to himself.

Thorin held his hands again and showed Bilbo the next sequence. He lost track of time in the warmth, the closeness, and the calm heartbeat at his back. The sun had burned itself out from the orange glow to a deep, dark red with its edges showing the dark blue of night. 

Bilbo was able to play three chunks of notes smoothly when his stomach rumbled, reminding him of the time. He glanced over at the fire to see a low, dying flame with no dinner cooking atop it. Bilbo’s stomach had been loud enough that even Thorin heard and looked in the same direction.

“How time has flown,” Thorin mused to himself. “Worry not, Bilbo, I’m sure there’s something left.”

Thorin shifted Bilbo so that he could stand and he approached a group of the company closest to the fire. Bilbo still clutched the harp as he looked around at everyone. All the dwarves seemed to avoid looking his way and yet kept stealing fleeting glances. Gandalf, on the other hand, kept looking from Thorin to Bilbo with a knowing smile on his face. Bilbo turned away from the wizard as blood threatened to flush his cheeks.

Bilbo wanted to bury his face in his hands but he didn’t get the chance as Thorin returned. He turned himself around so he could face him as he sat down with a small amount of food in his grasp.

“I’m afraid this is all that was left,” Thorin said, showing him what would barely be a meal for one.

Bilbo nodded in understanding. The dwarf king was more important and if that small amount was the last of the food for the night, it belonged to him. Bilbo started to stand when Thorin held out a hand, offering him half of the food.

“But—”

“Eat it before I change my mind,” Thorin said, holding out his hand further.

Bilbo dropped back down to sit and accepted the offer gratefully. They ate together in silence as the sun sunk below the horizon and they parted in silence when they were done. They made their way to their respective bedrolls to steal some much needed rest before the next day’s travel. As Bilbo curled up to sleep, he knew he felt far from full but there was contentment in his heart that felt just as satisfying.


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo only woke once that night which, for him, was a good night. The snores of dwarves proved difficult to sleep with but he was growing more used to it with each passing night. Bombur, the closest to him, released a snore so loud that he even woke himself but managed to roll over and fall right back to sleep. 

His sharp eyes didn’t take long to adjust to the dark as he turned over on his bedroll, glancing over all the sleeping dwarves. On his other side, he found Thorin keeping watch no more than ten or fifteen feet away. He hadn’t noticed Bilbo was awake as he seemed to be engrossed in tying something together that he had in his lap. However, Bilbo couldn’t quite make out what it was as he carefully cut the twine he was using. 

A deep, soothing tune reached Bilbo’s ears as Thorin hummed while he worked. It was a gorgeous sound and a familiar one, Bilbo noted. After a few moments of hard listening, he realized it was the same song Thorin had taught him in part on the harp. It didn’t sound nearly as beautiful when I played it, he thought as he closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him, lulling him back to sleep.

 

At the first break of light, Bofur, the dwarf on watch, started to wake the company so they could eat and continue their journey. Bilbo felt his hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him from his rest. A remnant of his dream remained burned onto his retinas, slowly fading with each second. It didn’t tell him much but his memory served him well enough to remind him he had dreamt of Thorin. Bilbo felt the red hot flush of blood spread across his cheeks as he thought of it, unable to look over to where he knew Thorin’s bedroll lay. 

He shifted into a sitting position, still trying to wake up, when he felt something slide off of him onto the ground. Suddenly alert, Bilbo looked to his right where he found an object he certainly hadn’t fallen asleep with. He reached down and picked up a makeshift harp built from flexible wood and twine. As he looked at the strings, he remembered waking up in the night, seeing Thorin tying something with twine as he hummed. The harp was what he had been crafting.

Bilbo felt something very close to shock with a hint of surprise as he carefully turned the instrument over in his hands. Thorin spent his time making it just for him and Bilbo had a hard time wrapping his head around it. He gingerly touched the strings before plucking one to hear the sound. It wasn’t quite as in tune as Thorin’s harp but strings of twine could hardly hold a candle to ones made out of silver like his. Still, no matter how out of tune it was, it still sounded wonderful to Bilbo.

He played a few notes from what his memory recalled when he remembered that he was supposed to be preparing for a long day of travel. He looked up at all the dwarves, packing up their bedrolls and eating some food for energy, and noticed that they were all avoiding eye contact with him again. All but one.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Thorin looking his way, watching for his reaction to the hand-crafted gift, but when Bilbo turned to really see him, Thorin glanced away, pretending as if he hadn’t been observing. Instead, Thorin busied himself with packing up, completely ignoring the hobbit along with the other dwarves. Bilbo felt a little disappointed because he appreciated the gift very much. He would just have to tell Thorin his thanks later in the day, he decided as he rolled up his bedroll and attached it to his pack. 

He lifted it onto his back, shouldering the great weight of it but appreciating it all the same. As difficult as it was, it meant they still had food and supplies and that thought remained a comfort to offset the physical struggle. He shifted the pack to make it more comfortable to carry as he noticed Thorin and Bofur talking quietly amongst the dwarves making last preparations. Bofur kept nodding, listening to whatever Thorin was telling him with the ease and friendliness of someone one could trust.

Bofur clasped Thorin’s shoulder, a gesture of understanding or comfort, Bilbo couldn’t tell, but he could see Thorin hand him something even if he was unable to see what. He let go of Thorin and turned around, causing Bilbo to quickly look away, feeling like he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to. He crossed the mostly dismantled camp to his own pack but paused when he stood across from Bilbo.

“Mr. Baggins,” he called out, causing Bilbo to turn toward him. “Catch.”

He threw what Bilbo assumed Thorin had given him and Bilbo caught it instinctively. He looked down at his hands to see a large, shiny red apple, one of the last in their stores. He was sure he wouldn’t see or taste another for a long while.

“You’re going to need that. Long day ahead,” Bofur nodded to him before picking up his pack and slinging it over his shoulders. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, unsure if he should eat it or save it.

Bofur shook his head. “I’m not the one to thank, but I’m sure you already know that.”

Bilbo nodded slowly, glancing over at the leader of their company who was already seated on his pony. He wanted to thank him for everything he’d done for him so far but all of the dwarves and Gandalf were packed and ready to go so he knew it would have to wait. Bilbo lifted himself up onto his own pony, as he was getting much better at it, and the company took off on the day’s ride. 

 

The mountains had been farther than anticipated as the light grew dim and they were not yet at the base. Discouraged, Thorin called for the company to stop and set up camp once more rather than push them to their limit for something still miles away. Grateful to stretch their legs, everyone slid to their feet and quickly made a comfortable place for them to rest. 

Bifur and Bofur took up the task of watching over the ponies after Fili and Kili almost lost them to the trolls and Ori and Balin gathered wood for the fire. Thorin continued to ignore Bilbo which did not go unnoticed by the hobbit. The dwarf king seemed to keep to himself at the edge of camp but Bilbo wasn’t about to let his strange behavior ruin his mood. 

Despite traveling all day, he had struck up good conversation with those around him, including Gandalf who had been unsubtly fishing for information about the events of the previous night. Bilbo felt proud at expertly avoiding answering him because he didn’t have an answer. Bilbo harbored and struggled with more questions than the old wizard could throw at him. But, if Thorin was going to act like it was nothing, that was the only way Bilbo thought to interpret it. Nothing more than an act of kindness. So, Bilbo decided to ignore him as well.

There were songs to be sung and food to be eaten, all of which further pushed Thorin from his thoughts. They all tried to keep each other in high spirits as the time passed and dangers grew worse and worse. It was nights like those that made them think of the piles of gold in the Lonely Mountain and forget that a fierce dragon could lie among them.

Bilbo watched it all happen around him with a gleam of wonder in his eyes and a smile on his face. As the night wound down, he found himself and a few other dwarves watching Fili and Kili have an archery contest after marking targets on a couple of nearby trees. Despite Kili being the trained archer, Fili managed to hold his own, remaining only a few points behind. Fili pulled back the bowstring to take his next shot and Bilbo was so engrossed that he didn’t noticed when someone sat down at his side.

“They’ve fought like this their whole lives,” a deep voice said in his ear.

Bilbo jumped a little, startled by the sudden, familiar sound. He glanced over at Thorin who was watching his nephews as Kili tried to throw Fili off his game by shouting whenever he thought he was about to loose his arrow. Fili promptly responded by hitting the dead center of his target and shooting his brother a look of utter superiority as the watching crowd answered with shouts and applause.

“Have they?” Bilbo asked with mild interest. He wasn’t sure how much he should acknowledge Thorin after being ignored for so long.

He grunted in response. “But they’re inseparable, those two.”

Bilbo nodded. “So, I’ve seen.”

He could see Thorin’s brow crease out of the corner of his eye, appearing to struggle with his own thoughts. Kili matched Fili’s shot exactly on his turn to prove to his brother that he was just as good, if not better. Once again, the dwarves around him erupted in cheer. Bilbo even saw Thorin break out in a proud smile, but it was gone as soon as it graced him.

“So,” Thorin began, figuring out his thoughts as he spoke. “What did you think of it?”

“It was a good shot,” Bilbo said, assuming he was referring to Kili.

“No, not that. The harp.”

Bilbo turned to look at him directly. His eyes were hard-set like the stone and gems that dwarves mined. His mouth curved into a tight-lipped frown, though it was hard to see through the beard. He could tell Thorin was putting up a wall between himself and his emotions so that Bilbo wouldn’t be able to see them.

“I loved it and I’ve been meaning to thank you for it all day. It feels like you’ve been avoiding me,” Bilbo admitted, hoping for an explanation. 

Thorin hesitated in his response, searching Bilbo’s eyes. “I did not mean to offend,” he said slowly as he chose his words with care. “I simply—”

“Mr. Baggins!” Kili interrupted. “How’d you like to give it a go?”

“I—what?” Bilbo said, staring up at Kili who held out his bow to the hobbit.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Thorin said, glancing from Kili to Bilbo.

“I’ve never used a bow before,” Bilbo said in feeble protest.

Despite that, Fili and Kili pulled Bilbo to his feet by his arms and pushed him out in front of the targets. “There’s nothing to it,” Kili said. “Just notch the arrow, pull it back, and let it go!”

Fili thrust a bow and arrow into Bilbo’s hands and the brothers sat next to their uncle to watch him try and shoot. He felt the pressure of so many eyes on him. Even the dwarves previously uninterested in Fili and Kili’s show turned to watch. Bilbo held the bow and arrow in a vice grip as he looked around at the expectant faces. He paused at Thorin, who showed him an expression bordering on sympathetic. With a deep breath, he opted to stare at one of the targets and notched the arrow into the bowstring. 

He turned to the side slightly and pulled back the string as far as he could manage before letting the misguided arrow fly free. Unfortunately for Bilbo, the arrow missed both marked trees and flew into the forest. The whole company exploded in laughter at the hobbit’s expense, with the exception of Gandalf and Thorin, leaving Bilbo feeling ridiculous and embarrassed. He stared at his feet, wanting to shake it off and laugh along, when suddenly the laughter collectively stopped as if they’d all lost their voices at once. 

Bilbo looked up to see Thorin standing up, with the most hardened, cross expression he’d ever seen him wear. He understood the dwarves fear and awe of their leader as he watched him stare them down. He stepped forward to stand beside Bilbo and faced the dwarves.

“You think it’s funny, giving an untrained hobbit a bow and watching him miss? As if any one of you would have the skill other than my nephews.” He looked over them all as they looked down with shame, none more so than Kili and Fili. “Kili, give me an arrow.”

“What?” he asked, looking up in confusion.

“You heard me.”

Without another word, Kili pulled an arrow from his quiver and handed it to Thorin. He then attempted to pass it to Bilbo, who almost flat out refused to take it. He didn’t want to be embarrassed again but Thorin was very insistent as he placed the arrow in Bilbo’s free hand. 

“You want me to do this again after what just happened?” Bilbo said incredulously.

“You did everything right, you just don’t know how to aim,” Thorin encouraged. “I’ll show you how.”

Bilbo had to fight back a grin. “First the harp and now this? What’s next? Will you teach me to dance?”

A short-lived smile crossed Thorin’s face as he looked down at the hobbit. “I could, if you so desired.”

“I know perfectly well how to dance,” Bilbo said, feigning offence at the offer.

“I have no doubt,” Thorin said, “Shooting arrows on the other hand…”

“All right. Show me then,” Bilbo conceded, notching the arrow Thorin handed him.

Ignoring the watching crowd, Thorin walked behind Bilbo and grabbed his shoulders, turning him more to the side so that the target was to his left rather than in front of him. He straightened out Bilbo’s bow arm, his left arm, before moving around to face the hobbit. A stray hand of Thorin’s ghosted around his waist as he walked that sent chills up Bilbo’s spine. On the other side, he brought Bilbo’s right arm up and back until the bowstring was at his cheek, almost touching his lips.

“Now line up the arrow with the target as best you can and let it go,” Thorin said, taking a step back.

“If I miss, you’ll be the one to blame,” Bilbo said, standing as still as a statue.

“But you won’t miss.”

Bilbo nodded shortly, barely inclining his head, and took aim at the target Fili used. Once he steadied his hands and found what he felt to be the right position, he held his breath and released the arrow. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped the bow to his side as he waited for the inevitable laughter. Instead, a roar of applause engulfed his ears and he felt more than one person slap him on the back, causing him to lurch forward.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to see his arrow, stuck in the wood of the tree just beside Fili’s within the bullseye. He saw Fili, Kili, Bofur, Dwalin, and Ori standing around him with muddled congratulations spurting from them all at once in the excitement. Bilbo felt proud and a little crowded in the middle of so many dwarves. He gave the bow back to Kili before slipping away from everyone. Fili and Kili collected their used arrows and returned them to Kili’s quiver as the company dissipated along with the last of the sunlight.

Everyone started to turn in for the night, and Bilbo was about to follow with a yawn in the back of his throat when he heard someone walking toward him. He turned to see Thorin, stopping just a few feet away after being spotted.

“I told you that you wouldn’t miss,” he said with a grin.

“I suppose you did,” Bilbo agreed. He felt the urge to fidget, to shift his feet or wring his hands, but he resisted. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Thorin said sincerely.

They both stood there for a few long, awkward seconds until Bilbo piped up. “Um, well, I suppose we should retire. To be well rested for tomorrow.”

Thorin hesitated in his response. “Yes. Of course. See you in the morning.”

He slipped by Bilbo to his own bedroll, leaving Bilbo feeling confused for more reasons than one. Thorin continued to alternate between being kind and cold and Bilbo wasn’t sure exactly what to think. What he did know was that ever since the harp lesson, being around the dwarf king stirred up a few emotions he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with yet, especially considering Thorin’s sporadic behavior.

A frown wrinkled Bilbo’s features as he curled up on his bedroll. He clutched his cover in a tight fist, trying to put all thoughts of Thorin and his muddled feelings from his mind but it wasn’t easy. It was a long while before Bilbo fell into a fitful sleep fraught with nightmares of gold and dragons and painfully unrequited love. 

He felt himself tossing and turning through the night until a rough, calloused hand on his cheek saved him from his own mind. He opened his bleary eyes and looked up into a familiar face that looked back at him with warmth. Thorin pushed the sweat-soaked curls back from Bilbo’s face before lying down next to him so that they faced each other.

“What?” Bilbo said, attempting to gather his wits from his sleep-fogged brain.

“You’ll be no good to me if you’re going to be tired all day. I can’t let you sleep so poorly. Hopefully my presence will ease your troubled mind.”

Bilbo reached for words too far above the fog and returned empty-handed. Instead he just nodded and rested his head back down. Thorin reached out and grasped one of Bilbo’s hands as a reminder that he was still there as they both drifted off into a calm, comfortable sleep for the rest of the night.


End file.
